Fooled
by That Vintage Dress
Summary: You will die with him holding your hand - a possibility that, if you dwell on it too long - frightens you. Jared & Kim


AN: This is somewhat of a third installment, since I wrote it in the same style as previous fics. You don't even need to touch the other two to understand it, but I'd say that'd it have the same kind of _desperate_ theme that they did, as a note. :)

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Fooled

_Kim_

-

You loved him.

You _loved_ him - had always loved him, ever since you were both twelve and he sat in front of you for English. Jared was different from the other boys, an aloof kind of silent, kind of serious that you felt was years beyond anything those _others_ could ever understand, or match. Others like Paul, mean, stupid Paul that always cussed too loudly or laughed too loudly and threw himself into conflicts.

You liked to sit there during recess, during class, quiet, just watching Jared - watching how he went about doing things, how he talked to the others, firm, assuring. Most of all you liked to drink him in, sketch the details of him in your mind, save them. The curling of his hair on the back of his neck. The warm, thoughtful eyes. The mouth that never smiled enough.

Most of all, his hands. Lean and long-fingered, his hands are beautiful. You watch them as he writes, as he eats. His fingers always still above an item that he's going to pick up, like his considering it carefully, wondering if he really needs it.

Your friend Yolanda tells you you're obsessed. You protest that you're not obsessed, that you're in love. At the tender age of thirteen Yolanda just scoffs and says, "Sure. I bet that's what stalkers tell themselves too."

You are hurt by that more than you let on to her. You weren't a stalker, were you? Thinking of the way you'd scribbled your names together - your name with his _last_, on your diary, little love hearts included - you feel ashamed. Strong Independent Women do not fawn over men, you hear in your mind, your mother's voice delivering the sermon. She wouldn't of approve of your "love" for Jared.

So you smile and find an old shoe box for those diaries and tell yourself that you're going to forget Jared, forget being Mrs. Jared, forget those children that you named.

You are, after all, a Strong Independent Woman. And Strong, Independent Women did _not_ fawn over boys. Even quiet, serious ones with beautiful hands.

-

It's your final year of high school. Around you, everyone is celebrating, reminiscing before they're even out the door, remembering everything through rose coloured glasses. Everyone is happy, in a bittersweet way - yet you, you are heartbroken. You lied to yourself when you were twelve. You were not a Strong, Independent Woman but very much a little girl with an enormous, painfully heartfelt crush. And now... now you might never see _Him_ again.

Yolanda doesn't understand. She's grown into a wild and wonderful kind of tease, a girl that boys panted over, a beautiful girl that knows how to work it. She has her pick of the boys (all except one) and she doesn't get why you don't too, why you don't just forget this stupid crush and _move on_. But she's everything you're not, she could never understand, would never understand. Your mother says you're just comfortable with who you are. Yolanda says that you're boring. Yolanda's a bitch so for the most part you ignore her, but sometimes when you look in the mirror and see a reflection that hasn't changed much except for aging slightly, you wonder.

You wonder that if you'd tried more; if you'd styled your hair in more ways than just leaving it down, or in a ponytail; if you'd learnt how to apply make-up properly, instead of just the lip balm; if you'd of been the kind of girl that goes over every inch of herself and takes _care_, grooms, if Jared would've noticed you. Because that's what you want, that's all you want. For Jared to see you.

You've shared classes together, lunch times, hell, even sat next to one another. But always, always it's as if you've been invisible to him. As if you and the life you live, the things you feel, everything - it's as if it didn't exist. You were not apart of the same world as Jared, or even the same universe. And God, God how you have cried about that. Sobbing, heaving tears into soft pink pillows, choking, ugly crying that your Mother would be horrified to learn of. All over a boy, too. How pathetic you were. You just wanted Jared to notice you, to know that yes, you were very much apart of his world and if he let you, would be apart of him, too.

The worst thing is there is no one that you have that you can talk to about this. No one that would understand, no one that would think you are healthy.

_It's just a crush_, they'd say. _Don't worry, you'll forget about it one day_.

And no one would believe you if you said you wouldn't. For who wanted to think that a girl's very life, her heart, all depended on one stupid, stupid boy?

-

Two weeks before Graduation, Jared disappears.

You are sick with worry, even though he's not yours to worry over. All you think is why, where, where did go? Was this it? Was he gone for good?

He had never even looked at you, really looked at you, like a person, like a person right there, in front of him, impossible to ignore.

-

Four days before Grad, before you all scatter, leave for your own lives.

Jared comes back. And there's something different about him, like he's smoldering, like there's a fire inside of him. He seems bigger, taller, stronger - but of course, you're imaging that.

Relief washes through you. You have a few more precious days to watch him, memorize him before he's gone forever, before _you're_ gone forever. And it's enough for now, a soothing balm for the ache deep inside you.

His hands. His hands are still the same. You sit behind him in History (a meaningless class now, with The End so close in sight) and watch as he drums the desk with his fingers, like he's impatient to be out, to be away.

_Please don't leave me_, you whisper in your mind, silent. _Please, love me. I'll be everything to you, anything you want. Just please, please don't let this be it_.

You're not watching your pens. One rolls off the desk, clattering on the floor. No one in the class notices, everyone chatting about holiday plans, college plans - the noise is a constant buzz, and Jared doesn't even turn around. With a sigh, you swoop under the desk to pick the damn thing up.

It's then that it happens. Your fingertips touch the pen and just as the contact is made, Jared pushes his chair back, about to get up, the legs of it barely missing your hand. You yelp in surprise and jerk up in reflex - your head hitting the bottom of your desk.

You groan, a hand in your dark hair and fumbling, you move back to your chair, already red faced. Quickly you glance up; Jared hasn't moved since he almost ran over your fingers now he's just staring at you, shocked, eyes wide like he's never seen you before.

Well, you reason, he hasn't, not really.

A few people nearby look over, having heard the fuss but their interest is quickly killed and they all go back to their conversations, their games. The only one who doesn't look away is Jared and oh, God. Your cheeks are flaming.

"Hi." He says, blurted out like he's not even thinking. "Just... hi. I'm Jared."

Why, why is he looking at you so closely? You're beginning to become unnerved, even as a tiny part of you is screaming _Yes Yes Yes_!

"Hi." Your voice is so, so soft; for years you've been dreaming of this and now, now you can't even think. It's like fear and hope have ripped all coherent thought away.

Jared moves closer, pushing his chair to you. He sits, his hands holding on to your desk, tight, like he'd rip it away if he had to.

Something is wrong, you can't help but think. This doesn't feel right.

"Kelly, right?"

"Kim." You correct, heart humming. You've been in the same schools your entire lives.

"Kim." Suddenly, beautiful, he smiles, teeth so white and you look away. "It's nice. I know this is going to seem weird, but... go out with me. I need you."

This is not how you imagined it would happen. In your daydreams Jared picked up your schoolbooks or something, a bag and smiled easily and knew that your name was Kim. And he'd walk you home and say goodbye and your heart would be impossibly fast and then from there, from there it'd grow.

But maybe, maybe Jared is struck with the same sense of urgency as you've had, with the end of school so so close.

And if there's a part of you that's whispering that this doesn't seem right, you ignore it.

"Yes." You say. "Alright."

-

Everyone thinks you are the fairytale couple. Especially Yolanda, who has been there since you first thought you adored him.

And Jared - from that moment in History he has been your shadow, your soul, restless without you, needing to know everything about you. That first afternoon you could not get him to leave, he wanted to know everything; your favourite colour, your favourite books, what you did when you got home from school, what you drank, what you ate. And every day after that, he returned, listening and asking and needing.

And you love him. You do. You love being held and whispered to and kissed. There's a security in knowing that Jared will now never leave your side. You will be protected and loved for the rest of your life, forever. You will die with him holding your hand - a possibility that, if you dwell on it too long - frightens you. For as long as there is a threat, Jared will never age. Never age, never die, while you grow and gray and wither.

He will be by your side, always, never leaving.

And if there's a part of you that screams at the suffocation, you don't show it. You smile and blush and everyone is fooled.

One day, maybe, you will fool yourself too, as you used to.


End file.
